The Gentleman or the Scoundrel
by imothelimo
Summary: ***Season 9 story, may contain spoilers*** Daryl's struggling with trouble at the Sanctuary, so Carol abandons her life at the Kingdom to help. Little do they know that as well as the Saviors, the group will need to cope with the death of their leader and the arrival of a new threat. Ensemble cast. Contains Carzekiel with eventual Caryl.
1. Chapter 1

"I'm going to stay at the Sanctuary for a while." Carol announced as she folded clothes to fit in her knapsack.

"Should I be worried?" joked Ezekiel.

The war had been over for two years, but tension between the Saviors and other communities had ceased to end with it. Rumors were spread about Maggie, hate was whispered about Rick and now Saviors Save Us had been graffitied all over the Sanctuary.

He wouldn't admit it, but Carol could sense that Daryl was struggling to lead,the community. On their recent trip to Washington D.C., he'd been angry and emotional, shouting at Ezekiel after saving him from falling into a horde of walkers. She'd wondered if it was a one-off, but yesterday at Gregory's hanging Daryl had been the same, starting an argument with Rick. Something was wrong.

"Daryl's struggling," Carol wouldn't meet the King's eyes, "I can help."

"It may be dangerous," he frowned, reaching out for her hand. "We need you here."

Carol was seen as the "Queen" of the Kingdom and when she wasn't discussing politics with Rick, Daryl and Maggie she was teaching the children and cooking delicious feasts for the whole community.

That wasn't to say her departure would stop the Kingdom from functioning. Ezekiel held court - listening to the demands of the citizens and making internal decisions. Jerry and Nabila, who had since married, also taught in the school and grew crops to feed and trade. They would certainly cope without her.

"You'll be fine." Carol forced out a smile. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

Ezekiel watched her silently as she finished packing her clothes. She left a small space for the pork jerky she'd cured. Daryl would love it.

"If you must leave," the King reached into his pocket, "I must first ask if you-"

"Ezekiel!" Carol's voice escaped, interrupting him. He'd pulled out a ring. It was beautiful. A large diamond, sandwiched between two sparkling sapphires, was set in a shiny, gold band. It would have cost thousands of dollars, had it been bought in the old world.

Thoughts raced through her mind as she struggled to form a coherent sentence. She'd been with the King for about nine months. Not long in the old world, but things were different now. She shouldn't be so shocked. He must've been carrying the ring around for days.

Her stomach clenched, unnerving her slightly. I should be happy, she mused. Shouldn't I?

She did love Ezekiel, and Henry too. The three of them were a family. She was content with her life.

But that's all you are, a voice deep inside her whispered, just content.

Carol willed it to silence. There was no point in even entertaining it. Why risk everything for happiness when you could be content?

"It's...not the right time." She stammered.

The King looked wounded.

"As you wish." With a weak smile, he put the ring away. "Though I shall ask again, when I sense that it is the right time."

She should've guessed he'd be persistent. He had been from the start, knocking on her door when what she'd really wanted was to read a romance novel. Eventually, his determination had paid off, and she'd allowed him to come into her home. They gradually began spending more and more time together, until the lines in their relationship blurred to become romantic.

Jerry had joked that she'd been playing hard to get. She hadn't. She'd just realized that she should accept what was on offer: a good man who wanted to love her. Carol had been lonely for so long. Despite having no romantic feelings for Tobin, their relationship had been a nice distraction for the pain she tried so hard to bury. She'd liked playing house with him. So she'd done it again, but with Ezekiel.

Marriage, however, may be a step too far. She'd been raised a Catholic, and though her religion had been tested, Carol still tried to hold onto her faith. She wasn't sure she could make vows before God - vows to a man she wasn't sure she was in love with.

Eugene was there to greet her as Carol rode through the Sanctuary gates. She hadn't told Daryl she was coming.

Eugene was wearing a lab coat, and his trademark mullet was yet to be shaved. Carol felt sorry for Frankie, the attractive redhead who used to be one of Negan's "wives" but was now dating the scientist.

"It is certainly unexpected to see you here so instantaneously." He said as Carol jumped down from her gray horse. "The situation here has somewhat deteriorated…"

"Where's Daryl?" Carol interrupted. Her patience was being tested.

"I believe he is currently residing in the boardroom."

"Please take me to him."

Knock knock.

Daryl, startled, reached for his bowie knife as he opened the door.

His heart swelled. It was Carol. He'd only seen her yesterday, but he wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her. The past few days had been a mess.

"I'm sorry, I should've told you," she said, smiling, "I came to help."

He chewed his bottom lip. "I'm good."

"Daryl-" she sighed, pausing. She shut the door.

They sat at the table, opposite each other. Carol glanced at the empty liquor bottles strewn across it. He must've traded some of his food for those.

"Why don' ya say why yer really here?"

"I'm worried about you."

"Ain't yer a peach."

"I know about the words. What they mean."

Saviors Save Us had been branded on the Sanctuary walls six times in the last week alone. Kevin, one of Negan's supporters, had started the trend. He'd used walker blood to smear the words by the entrance. He, and the others, were locked in the cells where Daryl himself had been incarcerated.

He'd sensed unrest for months. He knew Rick was being a goddamn idiot for thinking all the communities could work together. That's why the dumbass wanted me 'ere, Daryl mused, so he wouldn't have t'deal with his own shit.

"We need to nip it in the bud," Carol continued, "stop it before it spreads."

"Yer think I ain't been tryin'?" Daryl roared, unable to control his anger. He'd been angry for so long. He was angry with Rick, for keeping Negan alive after he murdered Glenn and Abraham. He was angry with the Saviors, who he hated before and hated more now he had to lead them.

But most of all, if he was truly honest, he was angry with Carol. Though he understood why she'd had to leave, part of him was still wounded that she'd abandoned him for the Kingdom.

And if she hadn't left, she wouldn't have fallen in love with Ezekiel.


	2. Chapter 2

Daryl needed space. He sat on the porch outside the Sanctuary, nursing a bottle of whiskey as he gazed up at the stars. He hated being trapped inside, trying to lead a group of violent people.

Carol wanted to hold court like Ezekiel, to listen to the people and try and diffuse the tension that way. Daryl wasn't sure it would work. The only thing the Saviors wanted was Negan, and permission to return to their old, brutal ways.

 _We should've killed 'em all._

The whiskey was drunk. He opened his pack of cigarettes, trying to forget. The Saviors had cornered them, trapped them like feral animals, allowed Negan to bash the life out of Abraham and Glenn.

Hershel would never know his father.

 _But tha's my fault._

Daryl was on his third cigarette when he heard footsteps behind him.

He didn't need to turn around to know who they belonged to. He'd follow the sound of them anywhere. Daryl reached out his hand and offered her the cigarette. Carol took it and dropped it on the floor, crushing it with her boot. _It's like she knows it's m'third_ , Daryl thought.

"Those things'll kill you." Carol cautioned.

She sat on the deck, right beside him. He could smell her shampoo: mint and something else, something sweet, comforting.

Daryl couldn't look at her. "Why ain't y'in bed?"

"Why aren't you?" Carol stopped looking at the stars and turned to look at him. He could sense her movement. He didn't dare meet her gaze.

"We don't sleep." Carol sighed. "Ezekiel, on the other hand, sleeps like a baby."

At the mention of his name, Daryl ground his teeth together.

"It's annoying." Carol continued.

 _Does 'e annoy her?_ Daryl could hold his tongue no longer. "Yeah, does 'e snore fancy too?"

He snuck a glance at her then. She was smiling, a wide, beautiful smile that showed off the dimples in her cheeks.

"Stop it." She joked, turning to him, and he couldn't help it. He met her eyes, then immediately stared down at his legs. If he allowed himself to look at her, truly look at her, he might say something stupid.

"He's a'ight." Daryl forced himself to grumble. It wasn't a lie. Ezekiel had looked after Carol when he, himself, couldn't. "He's a bit corny, but-" Daryl shrugged, unable to finish the sentence.

Carol, as if sensing his discomfort, smiled and said: "Glad I have Pookie's approval."

He stopped staring at his legs and looked into the distance. The two were silent for a moment.

"After what I went through with Ed," Carol continued, "corny is really, really nice."

Daryl nodded, ignoring the green fire raging inside of him. _She loves 'him. She deserves t'be happy._

He turned, forcing himself to look at her. "I'm happy fer you." He nodded as if forcing himself to say those words to her. "If any'ne deserves t'be happy, it's you."

She looked away from him. Daryl found himself grinding his teeth.

"He wants to get married," Carol's voice was quiet, "he had this ring..."

Daryl scratched at the skin around his thumb. He felt sick. Rick and Michonne weren't even married, and they'd been together far longer.

"I couldn't answer," her voice cracked.

Carol rested her head against his shoulder. Daryl found himself unable to respond or even look at her as felt her body lean into his.

He'd tried whiskey, he'd tried cigarettes, he'd tried the stars, but none were as powerful as her body close to his.

Ever so slightly, Daryl leaned his head towards hers, and allowed himself to forget.

Morning soon came, and Carol and Daryl organised a team to take to HQ. A bridge had collapsed on a nearby highway, and all of the communities were working together to repair it.

"We should take the more troublesome ones," Carol suggested as they looked over Rick's plans, "so we can keep an eye on them."

"M'kay," Daryl grunted, looking down as he fiddled with his bowie knife.

Carol couldn't help noticing how exhausted he looked. Huge bags hung under his eyes, along with fresh lines, making him look far older than a man in his early forties. Despite the installation of natural baths, Daryl appeared to have not washed in weeks, and his brown hair hung by his face like lank, greasy tendrils.

Carol felt pangs of guilt. The war had changed everyone, but for the better. Maggie was a confident leader and fantastic mother. Rosita had turned down her sass and led security at the Hilltop. Enid had blossomed into a fearsome young woman and chose to help Aaron recruit for the communities.

But Daryl had decayed. He'd become an angry, sad shell of the man he once was. What had happened to her man of honor?

She'd been so caught up in her own pain when she'd fled to the Kingdom. How could she fail to see that he was struggling with his own demons?

"Are _you_ okay?"

He stopped fiddling but didn't look at her. She wished he would tell her what was going on. She reached out and took the hand that held his knife.

"You don't have to be," she whispered, trying to meet his eyes. He turned to look at her.

There was a knock at the door.

Carol got up, annoyed at the interruption. It was Eugene.

"I must inform you that there's been a development," he looked harried, "you both ought to come and observe."

They followed him outside the building, where on the Sanctuary sign, someone had graffitied: FINAL WARNING.

They set off after sunset, and met the other communities close to the bridge. Carol and Daryl had arranged to share a tent.

They'd brought with them five of Negan's supporters. They could see Aaron and Enid from Oceanside, and Rosita and Jesus from Hilltop along with others from their communities. The Kingdom and Alexandria had not yet arrived.

They pitched their tents in the nearby woodland, silent as they filled it with their knapsacks. Carol felt strangely awkward. The last time she'd slept by Daryl was before they moved to Alexandria.

She found herself remembering the refuge they'd stayed at while searching for Beth. Before they'd heard walkers, Carol and Daryl had lay side by side.

They'd both been silent, but the atmosphere had felt charged. Since she'd found at Terminus, Daryl had acted differently around her.

In that moment, as they lay on the bunk bed, Carol had considered kissing him. She'd flirted with him before, back at the prison, but she'd been joking. Until she realized, shortly afterwards, that perhaps part of her hadn't been. As they'd adjusted to life in the cells, Carol had noticed his defined muscles and dimpled smile. She hadn't felt desire like it.

She'd thought he wasn't interested in her. He was younger and attractive, but she felt old and unappealing. However, as they'd lay on the bunk beds, Carol found herself wondering if he'd been flirting with her by the car. Perhaps things had changed. Perhaps he'd felt the same way.

But then they'd heard the walkers, they'd lost Beth, they'd found Alexandria and everything had changed.

Carol drifted back to the present.

"Gonna go hunt us somethin' t'eat," Daryl mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

As she watched him leave, Carol felt a wave of melancholy.

If she'd kissed him that day, if she was with Daryl, she wouldn't have hesitated over his proposal.

She would've said yes.


	3. Chapter 3

Carol wandered through the woodland, searching for firewood. She hoped Daryl would find a rabbit to cook, but a squirrel would do.

She heard a twig crack behind her, and instinctively reached for her pistol. It wasn't a walker. The Saviors were behind her, but Carol couldn't lower her gun.

"Where's Daryl?" barked Travis, the tallest.

Carol's hand was shaking. They didn't appear to be armed, but she was still outnumbered five to one.

She wouldn't answer. The Saviors took a step closer.

"Tell us, bitch." He spat, pulling out a knife.

Carol's finger trembled over the trigger. Travis was getting closer.

Bang.

It wasn't her. She turned, and saw Rick, his gun raised to the sky.

"Hell's goin' on around here?"

"Nothing." Travis mumbled, putting his knife away. "Thought we saw a walker."

Carol was shaking as the Saviors left. She felt sick.

Rick holstered his weapon. "You gonna tell me what the hell's goin' on?"

She took a deep breath.

"They cornered me. They wanted Daryl." Tears filled her eyes and she willed them away. "I just wanted to pull the trigger," she swallowed, "end it before it begins."

Rick shook his head angrily. "No. We gotta be working _together._ "

"They're dangerous, Rick!" her voice was louder now. It was no wonder that Daryl was in such a bad way.

"No more than you," he eyed her pistol.

Her stomach dropped. He was right. She would've killed them.

"Rick?"

It was Daryl's voice. Relief washed over her.

He was carrying a rabbit, but she was no longer hungry. She could feel her eyes filling with tears again, and she pressed her lips together, trying to hold them in.

As Rick left them, Daryl walked closer towards them. She watched him study her face, and his voice softened.

"Yer good?"

Her body crumpled. He dropped the rabbit and embraced her. He smelt the same, a mix of dirt and sweat and blood combined with something else, something musky and attractive. Carol allowed herself to cry.

"I'm sorry," she whispered through her tears, "the Saviors. They cornered me. They wanted you."

"They hurt ya?" He lifted her chin, inspecting her face.

She shook her head. "They wanted to hurt _you_."

The tent was cramped and hot, but Daryl couldn't undress. He didn't want Carol feeling uncomfortable.

It had seemed like a lifetime ago and they'd slept close together. He missed the way it was before, back when they were drifting around Georgia. He wasn't suited to community life, not the kind Rick wanted. Even the prison days were better. At least he'd had Carol.

She was the first person to accept his flaws, the first person to believe in him, the first person to understand him. If it hadn't been for her, he'd have ended up like Travis.

He'd never been very good with women, he'd never had a proper girlfriend, and he'd never been in love… until now.

For how else could Daryl describe his feelings for her? She made him want to be a better man. He would risk pain or death for her. Without her, he felt lost.

But how could he tell her? He was nothing. A dirty, stupid redneck. His parents had never shown him any affection; he felt as if he were undeserving. He couldn't believe that Carol would ever fall in love with him.

The sun rose. Carol and Daryl drifted out of their light slumber. They could hear voices outside their tent.

"He's back. Sleeping with that gray-haired bitch."

"The King's whore?"

Laughter.

Daryl leapt out the tent. He lunged at Travis, punching him square in the nose, pushing him up against a tree. He grabbed a pan from the floor. Travis' face was bloodied, he looked faint, yet Daryl pounded him with the pan.

"Daryl, stop!"

Carol had followed him out, her hand hovering over her pistol.

The sound of her voice was the only thing that would work. He pushed the unconscious Travis to the ground, turning to face her. The shock on her face made him feel physically sick.

The guilt froze him. It all happened so fast. The other Saviors rushed to Carol, holding a knife to her throat. Daryl rose his crossbow at them, panic coursing through him.

"Drop it!" Jason, the Savior with the knife, shouted. "Or I'll slit her throat!"

There was no other option. His crossbow fell to the floor with a thud.

Jason let go of Carol and pulled out a gun.

 _This is it,_ he thought, _but at least she's ok._

Jason screamed. Aaron stabbed him in the stomach. Before the Saviors could react, Rosita and Jesus were there, armed and ready.

Daryl retrieved his crossbow. He shot Jason right through the eye, then moved back, keeping an eye on Carol. She was holding her pistol, aiming at the Saviors.

"Stop!" Rick shouted, running over with Michonne.

They turned to look at him, the de facto leader of them all.

"What the hell's goin' on?"

"He attacked Carol!" Daryl roared, "held a knife t'her throat!"

"You didn't have to kill him" Rick gestured to Jason's body.

"He was gonna kill me!"

Everyone had stopped, watching the two brothers.

"Let's take this elsewhere."

Daryl and Rick were silent as they rode to Alexandria, the closest community. They stopped at Rick's house. They still didn't say a word. He lit a fire, but it did nothing to warm the icy tension between them. Daryl realized that he could hold his tongue no longer.

"We on the same side, Rick?"

His eyes widened. "Well you tell me."

Daryl fought the urge to punch him.

"That small group we had, back in the beginnin', we could do anythin'. That was right. This don' feel right, man."

Rick shook his head. "It's on us. We gotta figure out how to make it work."

"Ain't gonna work. They wan' me dead."

"That don't mean we get to kill them all."

"They threatened Carol."

Rick sat back, sighing.

"You love her, I get it. But you gotta let these things slide."

That was the final straw.

"Ain't gonna. It's gone too far, man. They want war."

Rick stood up, his nostrils flaring.

Before Daryl could react, Michonne's voice came crackling through the radio.

"Rick, you copy?"

He took a deep breath and reached for the radio.

"'Chonne? Everythin' good?"

"There's a huge herd of walkers. You'd better hurry."


	4. Chapter 4

Rick took his horse and followed Daryl as they raced to the bridge. They could see the herd on the horizon. They hurtled towards it. Daryl scanned the area for Carol. She was there, she was safe.

All of the communities had come together to fire at the herd. It was thinning, but there was still a few hundred left. Daryl hadn't seen that many walkers since they left Georgia. He'd thought they were dying out. Clearly, he was wrong.

He headed towards Carol and saw a lone walker move away from the rest of the group.

"Ya see that?" Daryl asked as he aimed his crossbow.

"I got it," Rick pulled out Lucille, which he'd carried since he imprisoned Negan, and rode towards the walker.

Daryl had been through so much, there wasn't much that could shock him, but the next thing he saw would truly horrify him.

As Rick swung Lucille, the walker pulled out a machete and hacked the legs off the horse. Rick plummeted to the ground.

Before the others could reach him, the walker dropped its machete and pulled out a knife, stabbing Rick repeatedly in the stomach.

Carol could barely breath. Too many thoughts swarmed her mind. A sentient walker. Rick.

The communities had defeated the herd, and Oceanside's doctor had rushed to Rick's aid, but it was too late. He lay dying, bleeding heavily, on the ground.

"No…" Michonne sobbed, clinging desperately to his hand. "I can't…"

Tears swallowed the rest of the sentence.

"You can," Rick urged, though his voice was weak and his breathing was shallow. "You need to. For Judith. For Alexandria."

Carol's insides felt frozen. Michonne was living her worst nightmare: losing the man she loved.

She'd feared it for so long. Life was so short, so fleeting. She'd lost Sophia, her world. She couldn't lose him too. She wouldn't survive the pain.

But she wasn't thinking of Ezekiel. She was thinking of Daryl.

That's why she'd run from him. She couldn't bear to watch him die. It was safer, easier, to live at the Kingdom, away from him. It was safer, easier to be with a man whose death would grieve her, but wouldn't tear her apart and would make her stronger. It was safer, easier to conceal her feelings.

Because if she had Daryl, she would be opening herself up to the worst pain of all.

"Daryl," Rick was pale, so pale, and quiet. Daryl had to kneel close to hear him. "That walker. It...it whispered."

"What'd it say?" Daryl urged, trying to calm the panic in his chest.

Rick couldn't answer. The life had been sucked from his eyes.

Tears blurred his eyes, but Daryl took Carl's silenced pistol from Rick's pocket. Guilt squeezed his insides. He'd been angry with Rick, shouted at him. He'd never get to say the thing he should've said.

Daryl blinked back the tears, swallowed, and shot Rick in the head.

"I love ya, brother." 

They buried Rick next to Carl, and held an emergency meeting in Alexandria's church.

"The walkers are evolving, " Maggie declared, "that's the only explanation."

Daryl couldn't get Rick's words out of his head. And if the walkers were evolving, why weren't the rest of the heard carrying weapons? And why stab Rick, why not bite him?

"That ain't no walker," Daryl stood, addressing the communities. He felt anxious, hating public speaking, but he needed to say it. "Walkers bite. Don't have weapons. Ain't smart."

"If it wasn't a walker, what was it?" Aaron asked.

Everyone was silent. This new threat was dangerous. More dangerous than the Saviors, more dangerous than the Governor, more dangerous than a huge herd of walkers.

"Human," Carol said, looking down, as if she couldn't quite believe it. "It must've been human."

"It looked like a walker!" Rosita piped up. "We all saw it!"

"Yes, it looked like one," Carol continued, "the perfect disguise."

"Rick said it whispered t'him." Daryl was pacing. "Never said what."

"So it's a human that looks like a walker and whispers?" Maggie looked frightened. "What did it want? There must be more of them."

"What if it was a warning?" Carol suggested, though the thought made her heart race.

"We'll be prepared." Maggie ordered. Rick had only been dead a few hours, and she'd taken it upon herself to be the de facto leader. "I want every community on high alert for these… whisperers."

"Gotta get back t'the Sanctuary," Daryl muttered as he reached his bike.

"I'm coming with you," Carol sat on the bike. She hadn't rode with him since they found the prison.

He froze, biting his lip. With Rick's death and the new threat of the Whisperers, he'd assumed she'd want to return to the Kingdom.

"Y'aint goin' back t'Ezekiel?"

She felt guilt flood her mind. She hadn't thought of him at all. In fact, with everything that had happened since they arrived at the bridge, she'd forgotten all about him.

"He'll manage," she said, trying to believe her words. Ezekiel would be wondering when she'd be coming back. But she needed to stay, to watch over Daryl. He'd seemed so broken before, and now he'd lost his brother. She couldn't leave him.

Shock had flooded the Sanctuary. It was quiet. Hopefully, there wouldn't be any trouble tonight.

Carol followed Daryl to his room. It used to be Negan's.

"Do you want me to fix you something to eat?"

"Ain't hungry."

That was a bad sign. Daryl was always hungry for her cooking.

He sat on his bed, opened the cupboard beside it and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. He didn't meet her eyes as he guzzled it down so fast he coughed, spluttering.

"Daryl," she sat beside him. "Don't do this. Please."

He took another gulp, burning his throat. "Why can't ya just leave me be?"

"I…" she stopped herself, the words love you teetering dangerously close to the tip of her tongue. "Care about you. I know you're in pain…"

He wouldn't meet her eyes as he swallowed more of the whiskey.

"Please talk to me, Daryl. Let me help you."

He fiddled with the skin around his thumb. "Ya can't."

She reached for the bottle, touching his hand in the process. "Let me try."

Her hand was soft and warm. He released his grip on the bottle, allowing her to take it. The room swam, he felt hazy. The whiskey was going straight to his head.

Fuck it, he thought. He couldn't lead the Saviors. Rick was dead. There was only one thing that could help, one thing that could stop his pain. Carol.

Ain't got nothin' left t'lose.

He turned his head to look at her, really look at her, taking in her deep blue eyes and dimpled cheeks. Before he could regret it, he cupped her face with his hands and kissed her.


	5. Chapter 5

Daryl's lips were chapped and his hands were rough but his kiss was soft and gentle. A mere touch on the lips. He pulled back and met her eyes, as if asking her if it was ok.

She was shocked. Overwhelmed. But yes, it was ok. More than ok.

She kissed him back, hungrily, as the fire of passion burned inside of her. She hadn't felt lust like this for Ed, or for Tobin, or even for Ezekiel.

As he unbuttoned her shirt, she felt her body tingle with excitement. She yanked off his vest, and then his shirt, desperate for the sight of his muscular torso. She stroked his biceps, feeling her way down his arm while he unzipped her pants. She unzipped his and straddled him, pushing back his hair so she could look at his face.

He unclipped her bra and threw it to the floor, cupping and caressing her breasts. She moaned with pleasure.

She moved her head down, covering his neck with gentle kisses, as they ripped off each other's underwear.

He was so hard for her. Tenderly, he pushed her onto her back and then entered her, gasping with desire.

They made love softly, exploring each others bodies and gazing into each others' eyes as if it was the first time they had truly seen each other.

It was the headache that woke him. It pounded at his temples. He opened his eyes, trying to ignore the increased throbbing, and turned to look at Carol so he could try to crack a joke about his hangover.

They'd fallen asleep in each others' arms, and for the first time in his life, Daryl had felt content.

But Carol wasn't there. He sat up, his stomach churning.

She was gone.

He stood, swaying, fighting a wave of nausea as he surveyed the room. There was no note, no sign of her, nothing. She'd left without saying goodbye.

He got dressed, as quickly as he could despite the pain and nausea, and tried to think of where she would've gone.

Home. The Kingdom.

Ezekiel.

He made it to the bathroom just in time, and once his stomach emptied he still couldn't slow his heavy breathing.

He thought she'd enjoyed last night. She'd certainly acted like she had. So why would she leave. Why would she go back to Ezekiel?

He could hear footsteps pound behind him, but he was too weak to respond. His instincts warned him that he was in trouble, that the Saviors had come for him, in that moment he didn't care.

 _Let them come._

There was a sharp pain at the back of his head, and then everything faded to black.

When Carol woke, the bliss of the night before had melted away and left her reeling in guilt.

She'd cheated on Ezekiel. She was as bad as Ed. An adulterer.

The Saviors were right. She was a whore.

Her heart was pounding, her panic was rising. It wasn't just her unfaithfulness. She'd slept with Daryl, opened herself up to him, let herself be vulnerable.

She'd allowed herself to love him.

She never should have done that.

She'd spent so long concealing her feelings. She'd spent so long running, so long trying to guard her heart.

How could she welcome that kind of overpowering love when it could be so cruelly snatched away?

She'd run from Daryl's room, not bearing to say goodbye. She might not have the strength to leave otherwise.

She'd left the Sanctuary quickly, hoping to avoid contact with anyone, especially Eugene.

She found her horse and jumped on it, pulling the reins and not looking back.

Daryl was awake. He was alive.

Slowly, he opened his eyes. His vision was blurry.

Pain erupted in his head, and his whole body felt sore, as if it had been pulled around.

His heart pounded. He remembered. He was attacked.

His eyes adjusted. He was in the boardroom.

Slowly, shakily, he stood up. There was someone else there.

"Well lookee what we have here." Negan smirked, crossing his legs on top of the table. "I got my Daryl back!"

It didn't take long for Carol to reach the outskirts of the Kingdom. It was quiet here. Peaceful.

She wanted to soak it all in. She needed to clear her head.

She found her old cottage, which had been neglected since she'd moved. Weeds covered the graves outside, and ivy snaked around the front door. It looked like a setting from a horror story.

Carol kicked open the creaky door and coughed on the thick dust that greeted her.

The morning light shone through, and she could see her old romance novels were still lying about the place. She picked one of them up, smiling with guilty pleasure. _The Gentleman or the Soundrel_. She couldn't remember this one. The blurb made it sound like an 18th century Bridget Jones.

Suddenly, her skin crawled. She could hear something. Someone was in the cottage.

Despite his pain, Daryl lunged for Negan before Travis and Mike restrained him.

"Still got the old fire, I see," Negan winked, "I like it. Gonna need it in my right hand man."

"Ain't never gonna be yer right hand man." Daryl growled as he tried to break free from the Saviors' arms.

"A little birdy told me Rick-the-prick's kicked the bucket," Negan stood, walking towards Daryl. "Good thing he didn't have the cojones to kill me. Someone's gotta sort out the mess he left."

"Ain't no mess!"

"My men tell me Rick was killed by someone pretendin' to be one of them meat puppets. That don't sound messy to you?"

Daryl stopped struggling. He hated to admit it, but Negan had a point. The Whisperers looked just like the walkers. They could be watching the Sanctuary now, and no one would be able to tell the difference.

Carol was alone. She could be in trouble.


	6. Chapter 6

Daryl never thought that he'd be working with Negan.

He'd killed Glenn and Abraham.

He'd had him imprisoned.

But Negan had a plan, and it was the only one they'd got.

As soon as he was free, Daryl hopped onto his bike and headed for the Kingdom. Negan had wanted him to talk to the communities. He may as well start there.

He needed to see Carol. What they'd had was real, he'd felt it.

He couldn't let her run away. He knew her. She'd be guilty, she'd be scared. She'd run.

He needed to tell her that it was ok.

But she wasn't there to greet him at the gates.

Ezekiel was. The sight of him clenched Daryl's stomach.

"Good morning, Daryl." He bellowed in his phony English accent. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

Daryl parked his bike and tried to swallow his annoyance. How could Carol put up with this on a daily basis.

"Need to talk 'bout the Whisperers." He walked over to Ezekiel, and tried to hide the emotion in his voice as he asked, "Carol here?"

The King widened his eyes. "She is not. I was under the impression that she was with you?"

"She ain't." Daryl's heart pounded as panic rose inside him. "Left early this mornin'."

"Did she say where?"

Daryl tried to quiet his fears. Carol's strong. She can take care of herself.

He was pacing. "Thought she was goin' back to ya."

"And you did not see her en route?"

Daryl couldn't admit that he didn't know what en route meant. Anger mixed with panic as he snapped, "I wouldn't be askin' ya, would I?"

He ignored his bike, choosing to walk, instead, through the Kingdom's gates.

"Stay, Daryl. She will be here soon."

He didn't look back. "Ya dunno wha's out there."

Carol reached for her knife and gripped it, ready, as she searched the cottage. Though she tried to step lightly, the old floorboards were creaky. She heard a scuffle upstairs.

It was quick, quiet. That's no walker.

She reached for her pistol, aiming at the intruder.

Daryl squatted tracing the shape of a horse's hoof. It was the first sign he'd had of her.

He tracked the horse's movements. It appeared to be heading towards the Kingdom, and then went East. He recognized the area. It's where he'd tracked her before, two years ago.

The cottage.

Carol's hands were shaking as the intruder made his way down the stairs. She tried to keep them steady.

And then she saw his face.

It was Henry.

The boy was the reason she'd stayed in the Kingdom after the war. It was the first time she'd looked after a child of the apocalypse and been able to keep him alive.

He was now fourteen years old, and had matured not only into a competent warrior, but also a hormonal teenager who didn't want his "mom" telling him what to do.

"What are you doing?" Carol asked, her voice a little high pitches, as she holstered her weapon.

"None of your business." He glared, folding his arms. "Why are you here."

She ignored the question. "Does Ezekiel know where you are?"

"He doesn't need to. He's not my Dad."

The words stung. They'd tried their best to raise Henry. Ezekiel had taught him how to look after the Kingdom's animals and how to hold diplomatic meetings. Carol had taught him how to shoot, how to cook and helped him read. He may not have been blood, but they loved him like a son.

It didn't help that he looked just like Sophia, with his mousy hair and smattering of freckles. They could've been twins.

She buried the thought of her. She couldn't let herself grieve. Not now.

"We are responsible for you, Henry. We need to know you're ok."

"I'm not a kid," he pouted.

Before Carol could answer, she heard footsteps upstairs.

She raced up, reaching once again for her gun. Henry stood in the way.

"Don't."

"Who else is here?"

A pale, blonde girl stood at the top of the stairs. She looked around sixteen, and her looks and vulnerability reminded her of Beth.

Before Carol could comment on the face that two underage teenagers were alone together, a more prominent worry intruded her mind.

She'd never seen this girl before.

"Her name's Lydia," Henry stepped towards Carol, his arms motioning her to stop, to put her gun away.

But she couldn't. For as much as she didn't want to kill, for as much as she didn't want to kill a child, she'd done it before and she'd do it again, if it meant saving others.

She didn't know this girl, and she knew first hand how dangerous children could be. She couldn't risk her hurting Henry.

"Raise your arms," Carol ordered, "turn around."

Lydia looked shocked, but she obeyed. Carol could see a knife in her back pocket.

"Drop your weapon."

The girl complied, shaking as she did so. Carol felt guilt form in the pit of her stomach. But she had to be precautious. She had no idea where this child had come from, or who her allegiances were.

"Thank you," Carol put her pistol away. "I'm sorry. We need to be careful. I'm sure you understand."

Lydia nodded. She seemed so weak, so feeble. Carol wondered how she'd been able to survive on her own.

"It's ok," Carol coaxed, an unsettling feeling building. "you can come down. Let me help you."

She can't have been alone. So where was her group? 

The deja vu was overwhelming as Daryl knocked on the cottage's door. He'd been so desperate to find her, to understand why she'd left Alexandria.

Now, he was desperate to find her, to understand why she'd left him.

He needed to know she was happy. And if that was with Ezekiel, fine. He'd respect that. He'd leave them alone, play the friend, as he always had.

But last night had shown him that his feelings for her were reciprocated. He knew Carol. There must be a reason why she was running from him, why she was running from love.

As she opened the door, the surprise on her face was still there, and her eyes once again filled with tears, but instead of crumpling into joy, her face sunk into sadness.

"Daryl," she whispered. She didn't embrace him. He didn't embrace her. "I'm so sorry."

He felt choked, but he tried to swallow it. He didn't want her to see his pain. He couldn't bear her to feel more guilt than she already did.

"I'm sorry, too," he muttered, staring down at his boots. "I shouldn' have-"

"Don't," Carol interrupted, opening the door wider. On the table where she'd served him dinner, Henry sat with a teenage girl he didn't know. "Not now."

"Ya want me t'leave?"

Carol tried to control her emotion. Daryl had come to find her.

She had never wanted to hurt him.

She owed it to him to explain.

"No," she swallowed, "stay." She motioned to the teenagers. "We'll talk later."


	7. Chapter 7

Daryl hadn't been able to eat. He left Carol and headed to the Kingdom alone, needing some space to clear his head.

He'd never been good with words. He wanted to tell her how he felt, but that was hard to articulate in his head, let alone from his mouth.

He paced the garden, unable to keep still. He could hear the Kingdom's choir singing, and the noise grated him, interfering with his thoughts.

This place was so goddamn chirpy.

As he walked away from the noise and towards the theatre, it suddenly occurred to Daryl that he hadn't yet informed Ezekiel about Negan.

The King was seated on his throne, but stood when Daryl entered.

"Have you found her?" He bellowed.

"Yeah," Daryl chewed on his bottom lip, "she's good. She's with Henry."

"Wonderful," Ezekiel sat back down and beamed, "so tell me, Daryl. What brings you to the Kingdom?"

He tried to ignore the frustration that had begun to bubble. He hated this phony, corny act. He hated that Carol seemed to like it.

"Negan's back," he couldn't meet the King's eye, "Saviors musta got him out. But he wants to help."

"Negan?" Ezekiel stroked his chin as he paused. "I suppose the evil that men do lives after them; The good is oft interrèd with their bones."

The frustration bubbled into anger.

"Ya gonna speak some goddamn English?"

Ezekiel smiled. "Oh but this _is_ English, Daryl. The finest. It is Shakespeare."

He wasn't about to admit that he wasn't sure who Shakespeare even was, having dropped out of school at fifteen. He sure as hell wasn't going to let this poncy prick embarrass him.

"Ya gonna get to the goddamn point?"

Ezekiel continued to smile. "It means we often forget the good of our enemies. The war is over. Both sides committed unspeakable acts. If Negan wants to work with us, pray, I see no harm in that."

Daryl took a deep breath, trying to control his temper, and told the King Negan's plan.

Carol had played good cop at breakfast, feeding Lydia and playing nice in the hope the girl would talk about where she'd come from.

She'd gotten nothing.

Now it was time to play bad cop. Once she'd escorted the teenagers back to the Kingdom, where Lydia was placed in a cell. Dianne would be watching her, and was under strict instructions not to allow Henry to visit.

It pained Carol to lock up a child, and to separate the teenagers, but what else could she do?

Henry was livid.

"You can't do this!"

"It's for your own good," Carol reasoned, anguished that she was putting him through pain. It seemed as if all she could do lately was hurt the men in her life.

"Henry, please, listen to Carol,"

Ezekiel's voice startled her. She'd been trying not to think about him. She didn't know what she would tell him.

The teenager, furious that both adults were against him, ran off to the gardens.

"Leave him," the King embraced Carol, which she stiffly reciprocated. He pulled back, noticing the tears in her eyes. "Are you alright?"

She felt as if she was damned if she did and damned if she didn't. She wanted to confess it all - making love to Daryl, her feelings for him - but she couldn't bring herself to cause him all that pain. She didn't want him to look at her differently. An adulterer, a liar. Was that who she'd become?

She wished things could be easy and uncomplicated. Because it wasn't just hurting Ezekiel that she was afraid of. She had a life at the Kingdom. She had Henry. If she allowed herself to be with Daryl, would she be throwing all that away?

Truth be told, with Lydia's arrival Carol hadn't had a chance to think about what she wanted. There was only one thing she could say to Ezekiel.

"I'm fine," she forced a smile, falling back on the armor she used whenever she was unhappy: she acted as if everything was okay.

The sun was beginning to set, bathing the Kingdom in a dusky orange light. Daryl had still not seen Carol, and he'd tried to busy himself, working on Negan's plan.

He'd wanted signs placed around every community, reading the simple words: WE SEE YOU. He wanted the Whisperers to know they were watching, that they had allies everywhere, and that they weren't afraid.

Negan figured it would trigger one of two retaliations:

They'd make themselves known and negotiate with the communities.

They'd feel threatened and start a war.

Daryl hoped it'd be option one.

Understanding that he had terrible handwriting and even worse spelling, he roped Jerry into helping him make the Kingdom's signs, and the two were working together on the lookout point.

The sky grew darker, but Daryl could sense something. He could see a shape in the distance. He grabbed a pair of binoculars and took a closer look.

A group, made up of approximately 150 people, were marching towards the Kingdom.

Once Ezekiel had fallen asleep, Carol left their room, looking for Daryl. A few residents hadn't seen him, worrying her, but Nabila told her he was with Jerry.

As she headed to the lookout point, she heard a flurry of activity and saw Daryl, Jerry and the knights with their weapons raised, racing towards the entrance.

She followed them, trying not to panic. She could see a huge group of people waiting outside the gates. She didn't recognise them.

A woman, bald haired and hard faced, stood in front of the rest of the group. She sneered at the Kingdom, and demanded:

"Give me my daughter."

Carol felt sick. _Lydia_.

She'd known that girl was trouble. She surveyed the group, searching for options. They were heavily outnumbered.

"She's safe." Carol raised her voice, trying to exude confidence,though her body was shaking. "She came to us. We meant her no harm."

"Are you the leader?" the woman asked, smirking, as she stroked her machete. "I thought this was a _Kingdom_."

"I am the Queen." Carol reached for her pistol with trembling hands.

The bald woman laughed, leading ripples of it throughout the group. Carol's heart was pounding.

"Well, _your highness_ ," she mocked, "I don't think we've met. I'm Alpha," she motioned to her group, "and I believe you call us the Whisperers."

Her words sent a chill down Carol's spine. She wondered how long they'd been watching.

"Then you know we have allies," she kept her finger on the trigger, wondering how many she could take out, should the need arise.

"Oh, we've seen," Alpha mimed using her machete, "Remember the bridge?"

Daryl lunged forward, but Carol placed her hand on his arm, stopping him.

"We'll bring you Lydia," she tore her eyes away from Daryl's, "if you leave us in peace."

Alpha raised her eyebrows. "And what fun would that be?"

"We can work together, negotiate terms," Carol continued, "there doesn't need to be a war."

"Very well," Alpha holstered her weapon, "bring me my daughter, and we'll leave."

Carol nodded at Jerry, who went to retrieve the girl. While they waited, she looked at Daryl, remorseful that they hadn't yet spoken. She'd had time alone, to think, and had come to her decision.

Jerry soon came out with Lydia, who panicked as soon as she saw Alpha.

"No!" she begged, "please! Don't make me go back!"

Carol wondered why a daughter wouldn't want to return to her mother, but she couldn't ask. She wouldn't like the answer, and she needed to let her go.

Jerry dragged the screaming girl to the gates and opened them slightly, pushing her through. They watched as Alpha snatched her, motioning to the Whisperers to leave as she pulled her distraught daughter along.

Carol began to cry.

"C'mere," Daryl pulled her close to him.

She sniffled, "I should've known that's why she didn't want to talk. She was scared."

"Ya did what ya had to do."

She pulled her head away from Daryl's chest. He was always there for her. It was time to stop running.

"I guess we should talk."


	8. Chapter 8

Carol had wanted to find somewhere quiet, so here they were at the cottage. Twice he'd found her there. Twice he'd said goodbye.

He hoped there wouldn't be a third time.

Carol lit a fire, and sat by it, warming her hands. She'd been quiet on the journey over.

"I had to leave," she said, finally, still looking into the fire. "I had to be alone, to think about it all." She paused, and then turned to meet his eyes. "I'm sorry."

Daryl had sat by the door, playing with his cuticles. He'd never slept with a woman and wanted to see her again. He'd never had a girlfriend. He didn't know what he was supposed to say.

"You need to know something," Carol continued, her voice cracking. "What happened - I've wanted it for so long. I never thought - never for one second thought - that you felt the same way."

Daryl chewed on his bottom lip. He wanted to tell her about his own tangle of feelings and how long it had taken to come to one simple conclusion: he was in love with her.

But he couldn't. His tongue felt like cotton.

Carol, as if sensing his discomfort, resumed what she had been meaning to say.

"It started off like attraction, like a silly schoolgirl crush. I'd spent so long being trapped by Ed, it was freeing to be able to flirt with somebody," she smiled, remembering that night at the prison. "But later on I realized it was stronger than that."

She remembered the anguish she'd felt when she learned Daryl had gone off with Merle. She thought she'd never see him again.

And that joy, that pure unadulterated joy when he returned.

But what clinched it, what really clinched it, was when she found herself threatening to slit Merle's throat if he even tried to mess with Daryl.

"Ain't done this before," he forced himself to say. His throat felt dry. "Ya know I said we gotta start over?"

She nodded.

"Still can. Just you an' me."

Carol sighed, wishing they'd hadn't left Georgia They could've gone their own way, just the two of them, found their own path, escaped the pain they've suffered since.

"I wish it was that simple," she swallowed.

"Is. Group's too big, it don't feel right. We'll just keep fightin',' either with each other or another group like the Whisperers. Fuck it all."

It was a pipe dream. She'd known it since the day she left Alexandria, when she was almost killed. That's why she'd taken Ezekiel's offer of staying in the cottage. There was nothing else there. No one could survive on their own.

"That's how it is now, Daryl. You find a group, and you stick with them. Only way to survive." It wasn't just that. Despite the pain, despite the constant fear, she'd learned to forge a life.

"And I don't want to leave," she added, "not any more. I have a life here. As do you."

"Nah." Daryl's voice cracked. He'd been in pain for so long: getting Glenn killed, being imprisoned, losing Carol, losing Carl, losing Rick. He'd never allowed himself to grieve. He couldn't fight back the tears as he cried, "Ain't got nothin'."

Carol immediately ran to him, holding him as he had so many times with her. "You haven't," she soothed, placing a kiss on his head. "You're the best man I've ever known. You have a family. Maggie, Michonne, Rosita, Aaron, Lil' Asskicker… so many people care about you.

"Rick put you in charge of the Sanctuary because he trusted you the most. It's going to be tough, but I'm going to help you. We'll do it together."

Daryl sniffed, wiping his eyes. "Yer the first person t'believe in me."

"And I won't be the last."

They sat in silence, holding each other for a while, before Carol realized she had one thing left she needed to say.

"I keep running because I can't lose you," she admitted, "it's why I forced a relationship with Tobin and Ezekiel. I couldn't allow myself to feel the things I do for you, Daryl."

But as she said those words, she felt as if the floodgates had already opened. She'd tried to ignore it, but she couldn't stop thinking about him.

"Ain't goin' anywhere. We got nine lives, remember?"

An old saying wormed its way into her thoughts: it is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.

That night at the Sanctuary, when they'd finally succumbed to their feelings to each other, Carol had felt so happy and alive - more than she ever had with Ezekiel.

Surely it would be worth the risk to have more days and nights spent feeling like that, than to spend (however much she had) her time without Daryl?

She smiled, giving him the courage to say, "why don't we spend 'em together?"

Daylight was streaming through the windows, stirring them from their slumber.

They were lying in each other's arms, naked on the floor. Carol was the first to stir, mumbling "should probably talk to Ezekiel."

"Pro'ly should."

She sat up, wiping her tired eyes.

Daryl turned on his back, looking at the ceiling. "Want me to wait here?"

"It's up to you. I won't be long. He might want me to leave."

"M'hmm." Daryl murmured as he watched her dress. It was a shame she had to. Naked, she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Once she was dressed, she leaned over and kissed him.

"Wha's tha' for?"

"Goodbye kiss."

He watched her leave, feeling an unfamiliar fluttering in his heart. He wondered if it was joy.

"Where have you been?" Ezekiel shouted as soon as she saw him. "The Whisperers march to our gates, yet _you_ , our supposed _Queen_ , decide to do disappear!"

"I'm sorry," Carol rubbed her lips together, trying to control her guilt. She must not cry. It would only make it worse.

"And that is all you can muster?" He rose from his throne. "I was worried _sick_."

"I know. I shouldn't have left," Carol continued. "I needed to think."

"You should have consulted me. They are a threat to the Kingdom."

"Not about the Whisperers," Carol swallowed, "about us."

Ezekiel, who was usually so larger than life, appeared to shrink.

"You're a wonderful man," she struggled to find the right words that could possibly make this any easier, "and I've been lucky to have been with you. But I can't…" she blinked back the tears. She'd never broken up with anyone before. She found that it was harder to _do_ than to receive.

"I can't be with you. Not any more."

Ezekiel lowered his head, and she could see that he was crying.

"I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you," she found the strength not to comfort him physically, "if you want me to leave the Kingdom, I will."

Before he could answer, Jerry burst through the doors, taking one look at the ex couple and stopping right in his tracks.

"Sorry dudes, didn't realize…"

Ezekiel coughed, springing back to his former self. The man was, and always would be, an actor.

"Speak, Jerry," he boomed.

"It's Henry. He's gone."

They looked at eachother. Carol's heart was pounding. Instinctively, she knew where he would've headed.

"He must've tried to find Lydia," she fretted, "I'll go."

"No." Ezekiel was already heading for the door. "I need to be alone. _I_ will find him."


	9. Chapter 9

As soon as Carol left, Daryl radioed the Sanctuary. The plan would no longer work. After he told Negan about the Whisperers, Alpha, and Lydia, they proposed a new strategy: elect someone to dress in a walker-skin suit and infiltrate their base.

Daryl, desperate to stay a few more days with Carol, suggested that he prepare the walker suits before he returned to the Sanctuary.

He headed northeast, towards the woodland, hoping to snag a few squirrels in addition to the walkers.

With Ezekiel gone, Carol took over his duties, which meant holding court in the theatre. The priority was the defense against the Whisperers. She added more residents to the watch rota and drew up additional plans for strengthening their defenses.

When that was done, and she realized that her stomach was growling, Carol discovered that the Kingdom was running a surplus of fruit, so she organized a trade with Oceanside in return for fresh fish.

Despite putting on an act of strength, her insides felt as hard as a rock. Henry was in danger. There were still lots of walkers out there. It was dangerous to be alone.

She tried to calm herself. Henry was not Sophia. He was older, for one, and he knew how to defend himself. Morgan had trained him in Aikido, Ezekiel had trained him how to use a sword, and Carol had trained him how to shoot.

But Carol still couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was going to happen. She should've gone with Ezekiel, but he'd wanted his space, and after everything, she owed him that.

So she kept going. She discussed plans with Larry, the new doctor, to erect a building to the west, which they hoped to turn into a medical center.

By this point, night had plunged the Kingdom into darkness, so Carol returned to the cottage.

Daryl's day had also been productive. He'd tracked and hunted a fox, putting down twelve walkers in the process. He only managed to skin four of them, carefully carrying them back so they wouldn't contaminate the meat.

After he placed the skins in the garden - god knows what Carol would say if she found them inside - he had the random notion of doing something he'd neglected for a very long time.

He took a bath.

As he scrubbed off months of filth, which turned the water brown, he had an even crazier idea.

Maybe he should cut his hair.

He hadn't trimmed it since the apocalypse. It was so long now, reaching his shoulders in lank, greasy tendrils.

He found a pair of rusty scissors and began to cut until his hair was as short as Carol's.

He almost didn't recognize himself, but he felt good, and he couldn't wait to see her.

When Carol opened the door, she was greeted by the sight of a dead fox staring at her.

"Daryl?" she called, half annoyed, and half bemused.

She almost didn't recognize him. He looked so… clean, which was a word she'd never thought she'd use to describe him, and his new haircut reminded her of the man he'd been at the farm.

"Ya like it?" He bit down on his lip, his voice sheepish.

"Of course," she kissed him, running her fingers through his new hair. "As long as you're not Samson."

"Who?"

"Never mind," she smiled. "What's with the fox?"

"Brought ya dinner."

When their bellies were full, they sat together on the sofa. Daryl felt both anxious and content. It was odd, this relationship stuff. He didn't know what was expected. Should they talk for a bit first, or would she want to go straight to fucking?

His parents had never sat together. Before his Momma died, Daryl could only remember her lying on the sofa in a drunken stupor, while his Dad went whoring around.

Merle had never gone steady either. He'd had plenty of women, all of them meth heads like him, but in his brother's opinion, they were good for only two things: fucking and drugs.

Carol's hands reached for his, and he held them, relishing their softness and warmth.

"Never done this b'fore," he admitted.

"Held hands?"

"Had a girl. Dunno what I'm s'posed t' do."

Carol gently kissed his cheek. "You're not _supposed_ to do anything."

Her heart swelled for him. She'd guessed he lacked experience, but it didn't matter to her. She didn't exactly know what she was doing either.

Her first boyfriend was Ed, and when she was with him she'd thought it was normal to be abused. When she met Daryl and the others and learned how wrong she was, and how strong she could be, she tried flirting with Daryl, but she knew neither of them would've been ready.

In Alexandria, she'd forced herself to go along with dating Tobin, desperate to feel _something_. So when Ezekiel finally wore her down, she sort of knew what it was like, to be with a man.

But this was different. This was real.

"Things'll stay the same between us," she said as she straddled him, "only now we can do this…"

She pulled his face towards hers and kissed him, hungrily, feeling his cock harden through his pants. He fumbled with the buttons on her shirt, distracted by his desire. He was throbbing, desperate for her.

Carol moaned as he fondled her breasts, gently biting her nipples. She yanked off her pants. Her pussy was soaking. He slipped a finger inside, and she gasped, unzipping his pants, needing him inside her.

Daryl's arousal was close to climax. He entered her, biting his lip as he did, trying to hold back his pleasure. He stared into her eyes as he thrust, soaking in her beauty. She came quickly, moaning his name, and he gave into the pleasure then, joining her in climax.

Afterward, as they held each other, trying to calm their panting breath, Daryl smiled sheepishly and replied, "think that'll be a'right."

Carol awoke gasping. She'd had a nightmare about Henry.

Daryl stirred. "Ya good?"

"I'm worried about Henry," she swallowed, nauseated. It had only been 24 hours, but her gut was telling her something was wrong. "I should be out there, looking."

She sat up, looking for her clothes.

"What 'bout the Kingdom?"

"I need to find Henry," She pulled on her shirt.

"Ezekiel wanted ya t' stay," Daryl stood, reaching for his own clothes, "I'll go."

Carol felt as if she might burst into tears. "You don't have to."

"I do if it stops ya worryin'," he pulled on his pants. "Ya need t' look after this place."

She felt overwhelmed by emotion. Without being asked, Daryl had risked his life for Sophia, and now he was risking it for Henry.

"I love you."

The words escaped her mouth and hung in the air like a bad smell. Daryl froze. She wished she hadn't said them. It was too soon.

He hadn't expected that. No one had ever told him those words, not even his Momma.

"M'sorry," he croaked, not wanting his pause to upset her, "jus'... ain't never heard that b'fore."

A solitary tear ran down her cheek. He was the most loveable person she knew. She wished she'd told him sooner.

"You should've," she wiped her tears away. "I'm gonna keep saying it. I love you, Daryl. I've loved you for so long."

He gulped. His mouth felt dry.

"You don't have to say it," she smiled, "it's ok. I understand."

He finished dressing, hoping his tongue would stop feeling like cotton.

"Stay safe," he said as he opened the door, "I love ya."


	10. Chapter 10

**Yesterday:**

The noise had woken Henry. He'd looked out his window and seen a large group outside the gates. He knew that if he went out there, Carol would've gotten so mad at him, but at least he could satisfy his curiosity by watching through the window.

All of a sudden, he'd been startled by screams, and he stared in horror as Jerry dragged Lydia to the gates. Henry had felt his stomach drop.

He'd met her a few days before. Whenever he'd wanted to be alone, Henry would wander off to Carol's old cottage. He'd seen a small, pretty blonde girl running. He didn't know her, but she'd looked scared, so he'd stopped her, introducing himself and allowing her to stay.

She hadn't told him about her group, but then again, he hadn't asked. She'd needed his help, and that was all that had mattered.

He'd liked having Lydia around. There weren't many kids left anymore. Jenny, who also lived in the Kingdom, was eleven but she irritated the crap out of him. Ken, who lived at Hilltop, was cool but he'd just turned eighteen and had responsibilities now. Henry had been lonely for a long time.

So after he'd seen Carol and the others leave, Henry packed a knapsack and gathered his weapons. He'd rushed out of the gates, following the trail the Whisperers had left behind.

He'd run through the woods, hearing them in the distance. His heart was beating wildly, his breathing erratic, but he'd been desperate to find her.

He'd made it through the woods and wandered through a field. He could see the Whisperers in the distance. He'd felt so tired, but he'd pushed on.

At last, he'd spotted her. She was being yanked along by the bald lady.

"Lydia!" He'd shouted, watching as everyone turned to look at him.

"Henry!" She'd cried. The bald lady had looked bemused.

"Who the fuck are you?" She'd let go of Lydia and walked towards him, pulling out her machete.

"A... friend," he'd stammered, suddenly feeling as if he might pee himself. He'd felt stupid for coming. Of course he was going to get himself killed.

"Lydia has friends?" The bald woman had smirked.

"He looked after me, Mom!" The girl shouted as she ran towards Henry, hugging him.

"Don't call me Mom." The woman slapped her. "You _will_ call me Alpha, or I'll cut out your tongue."

Henry felt like he'd also been hit. Poor Lydia. That's why she ran away. Her mother was a psychopath.

"Don't fucking touch her!" he'd shouted, shaking.

Alpha had stroked her machete, sniggering.

"You're cute," she'd jeered, "I'm gonna keep you."

 **Today:**

The Whisperer's camp was huge. There were hundreds of them, making skin suits, preparing food or practicing weaponry.

As soon as Alpha left to go hunting, Henry went looking for Lydia. He found her on the outskirts, slicing walker flesh.

"Let's go," he said, trying to ignore the stench of the putrid meat.

"We can't," she sighed, "they'll kill us."

"You did it before."

"I never told you how," she dropped the corpse and met his eyes, "There were about five of us hunting. I could see your colony in the distance, so I killed them and ran for it."

Henry was equally terrified and excited. "Then let's go hunting."

"I doubt she'll let me."

"Well, _I'll_ go. I'll go home, get an army, and we'll come rescue you."

Lydia stared sadly into the distance.

"Your people don't stand a chance," she sighed.

"We have allies."

"We know," she swallowed, "we've been watching you all for months."

Henry felt sick. He'd thought, naively, that they were the only survivors in Virginia. He'd thought, naively, that there wouldn't be another war.

"Couldn't they make a deal?"

Lydia shook her head. "Mom - Alpha - would _never_ do that. We've survived because we conquer."

"You're not like that."

She turned away from him. "You don't know what I'm like."

He wanted to hold her. "You're not like her."

Lydia looked down at her boots. "She didn't use to be like that," she mumbled, "she was a good Mom before all this," she gestured towards the Whisperers, "I suppose she was a bit like Carol."

"Carol's not my Mom."

Lydia looked surprised. "She's not?"

"Not my biological Mom. She died when I was nine." Henry had never told this story to anyone. "A walker got her. She was trying to save me."

"I'm sorry."

"Then my Dad died a few months later. By then we'd found the Kingdom, but he got bit on a run. It was just Benjy and me for a while," his stomach tightened as he remembered his beloved brother, "he died just before the war."

"I didn't know you had a war."

"There was this psycho, Negan. He battered people's heads in with a baseball bat and then stole half their shit. And we just let him do it," he paused, angry for the past, though he was too young to do anything then.

"Until one of his guys killed my brother, and we joined the other colonies in war," a thought occurred to him, "but we work together now. I never thought we would, but we did. If we can do that, maybe one day we'll work with your group too."

"Maybe."

They sat in silence until they heard footsteps behind them. It was a walker. Henry reached for his _jo_.

"Stop," the walker growled. Henry froze. _They can talk now?_

"Ain't one of them," the walker continued, pulling his mask up slightly. It was Daryl. "Came to take ya home."

"It's not safe!" Lydia hissed. She recognized the man. She'd thought he was Henry's Dad.

"Ain't gon' be," he pulled his mask down, "but I gotta plan."

They waited till dark. The Whisperers pulled on their skin suits and slept under the stars, huddled together like animals.

The smell made Henry gag, but he wore his, safe in his costume. They lay there, frightened but awake, anticipating the soft breathing and snores around them.

Daryl coughed thrice. The signal. They stood up, slowly, and ambled like walkers. Henry could barely see through the mask, but he kept going. They made it through the fields, and when they reached the woods Daryl tore off his mask.

"Let's get this goddamn Halloween shit off."

The woods were pitch black, but Daryl seemed to know where he was going, tracing footprints on the floor. Henry watched, intrigued. He wanted to track. No one did it at the Kingdom. N _ext time he visits, I'll ask him to teach me._

They were nearing the road when Henry spotted something. It looked like a row of pikes. That wasn't there when he left.

"You guys see that?" he pointed.

Daryl turned to look at it and then ran towards the pikes. Henry's stomach plunged. Whatever it was, it was bad.

He and Lydia followed. They could see more clearly. They were heads on top of the sticks.

Tammy Rose and Rosita from Hilltop. Tara and Rachel from Oceanside. Luke and Father Gabriel from Alexandria. Troy and Laura from the Sanctuary.

And Ezekiel.

Henry puked. Lydia held him as he retched, tears streaming down his face.

Since his father died, the King had looked out for him, taking over the patriarchal role.

And Henry had never thanked him for it.

The day since Daryl left felt like an eternity. She'd found it hard to focus on her duties, worrying about the men she cared about. Her gut would not quiet.

She couldn't sleep and spent the night helping Jerry and Dianne with watch. The sun was rising when she spotted three figures in the distance.

Her heart soared. She ran down to the gates.

It was Daryl, Henry, and Lydia. They were safe.

But something was wrong.

Her gut flared again.

She froze, watching, preparing herself for the news she knew was coming.

Daryl was carrying something.

It was Ezekiel's head.

Carol's face crumbled, tears blinding her. Part of her _had_ loved him. But it wasn't just grief that was tearing her part. It was guilt.

If she hadn't broken up with Ezekiel, he wouldn't have gotten himself killed.


	11. Chapter 11

For once, the Kingdom was quiet. The choir wouldn't sing. The gardeners wouldn't chat. There was no sound of Ezekiel bellowing Shakesperian quotes.

They burnt his head on a pyre. Carol held Henry as he cried, holding back her own tears. Daryl stood by, and that fact gave her comfort, though both of them knew it would be inappropriate for him to do more in front of everyone else.

He'd radioed all the communities, informing of the murders, and inviting them to the Kingdom. There was no doubt that the Whisperers would return, and this time, it would mean war.

Once the funeral was over, and Carol was assured that Henry and Lydia were asleep, she went to find Daryl.

He was sitting on the bench where she'd talked with Ezekiel and was fiddling with his knife. He stopped when he saw her walk over.

"How ya holdin' up?"

She sat beside him, though she couldn't meet his eyes.

"I can't stop thinking this is all my fault."

"Ain't. Ya did nothin' wrong."

"He left because _I_ ended things."

"Ya didn't know."

"I knew it wouldn't be safe."

"So did he. Ain't stupid."

Carol could hold it together no longer. Her face crumpled as she allowed the tears to trickle down her face.

"Ain't ya fault," he soothed in the soft voice he reserved for her and her alone.

"I feel like it's all going to be swept away," she leaned into him as he put his arm around her, "after Rick, Rosita, Ezekiel-" she was unable to continue. There were so many names on that list. It would never end.

"We ain't ashes," he reminded her, despite battling his own list, "b'sides, Henry's safe."

She nodded, showing the glimmer of a smile. "He's safe because of you."

He bit down on his lower lip. He may have saved Henry, but that would never take away the guilt he felt for not being able to save Sophia.

"Thank you," she continued, swallowing. Her tears had stopped. "You're the best man I've ever known."

Daryl squinted at her. He wasn't sure how to handle compliments.

She understood.

Shortly after the other communities arrived, Carol met with Negan, Daryl, Aaron, Jesus, Michonne and Maggie.

"There's 'bout five hundred of them," Daryl began, staring down at his boots. He hated speaking in these meetings.

"What about them meat puppets they gotta hard-on for?" Negan smirked.

"Ain't none at their camp."

"It's likely they'll bring them," Carol interjected. Her insides felt hard. The Kingdom's defenses weren't strong enough to withstand an army and a herd of walkers.

Maggie bounced Hershel on her knee. "Rosita made some explosives. We could plant a few of those, thin the herd."

"We should plant them now."

Maggie stopped bouncing her son. "They're at the Hilltop."

"I'll go," said Jesus, standing to leave.

"We should get snipers ready," Carol continued, "covering all angles. If all goes South, make Alpha the prime target."

"And I can't wait to get my balls in this," Negan winked, holding up a skin suit.

"They're here!"

Night had fallen as Jerry hollered from the watchtower. The snipers were ready, but Jesus hadn't yet returned.

They could see hundreds of walkers approaching, but it was impossible to distinguish between the dead and the deadly.

They didn't have enough ammo to snipe every walker in sight. The soldiers were silent, the air thick with tension, as they waited for a closer target.

Suddenly, there was a burst of light as a flaming arrow flew through the air, striking the tree in the gardens. Time seemed to slow as fire licked the top of the tree, before growing hungrier, devouring the branches.

 _They have more_ , Carol panicked, time speeding back up as she sprung into action. The children were hiding in the theatre. She had to get them out.

Another arrow flew through the sky as she raced inside. She could hear gunshots and silently cursed the snipers - their fear was making them reckless.

Henry was standing by the doors, _jo_ in hand, ready to defend the children. He raised it instinctually, before lowering it on the realization that Carol was the intruder.

"We need to leave," she ordered, her voice breathless, "now!"

Lydia was holding Hershel as she ran. Jenny, perhaps feeling a burst of responsibility that comes with imminent danger, held Judith's hand. Carol led them out of the theatre, inhaling smoke as they left. The locker room to their right had just been hit.

Judith began to cry, causing Hershel to wail, and Jenny shushed them.

They'd recently built a storage shack out of scrap metal, and Carol led them there. Jenny sat in the back, Judith on her lap as she tried to soothe her. Lydia, who was desperately rocking Hershel, looked close to tears.

"It's all my fault," she swallowed.

Carol looked at the girl and saw her own face staring back at her. She saw her belief she alone caused this war. She saw her guilt. She knew it would never end.

But Carol realized, then, that she was wrong. If Lydia hadn't run away, they still would've met the Whisperers, and knowing Alpha a war would be inevitable. And as for Ezekiel, life and death were so precocious. If Carol had searched for Henry, he may have died another way, and she would still feel culpable because of the hurt she caused.

She didn't have to feel that way. What happened was a tragedy. What was happening, now, was inevitable.

"It's not," Carol urged, pulling Lydia close. "This was always going to happen."

***

While Carol was saving the children, Jesus drove down the highway. With gas running so low, the truck was only supposed to be used for emergencies, but he figured this was one.

Loaded in the back were the explosives Rosita made. They hadn't been tested, but knowing her, they'd work the first time, and they'd be powerful.

Jesus slowed as he neared the Kingdom. He'd never seen so many walkers. They had smothered the roads. There was no way he could get through them all.

He could go back, he could run, he could survive.

Or he could be brave.

Jesus chose to be brave. He pushed hard on the accelerator, mowing down as many walkers as the truck could muster. When it began to slow, and he could go no further, his finger hovered over the detonator.

 _Aaron, my love, remember me._

He pressed down and the truck exploded into flames, bringing down a horde of walkers with it.

The Kingdom was on fire. The explosives were gone. He couldn't see Carol.

Daryl had no choice but to fire his crossbow at the Whisperers.

Thanks to Jesus' sacrifice, there were less of them now, about two hundred or so. The other soldiers joined him, and together they thinned the herd, who were now outside the gates.

One of the walkers pulled off their mask, revealing themselves to be Alpha.

"Give me Lydia!" she shouted, rattling on the gates, "and we'll leave."

"She's staying with us," Carol had rejoined the group. "Leave, and we won't kill you all."

Alpha laughed, hysterically, sounding as if she were a witch. Her laughter, slowly and sickeningly, turned to gurgles as an adjacent walker began slitting her throat. It pulled its mask off, revealing Negan beneath it.

Jerry quickly opened the gates, and he ran inside, followed by a few of the Whisperers, but the ground militia was ready with their knives.

The enemy outside, lost without a leader and now certain that they were out of hope, disbanded.

It was over.


End file.
